


Grapefruit

by Zhie



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Bedtime debate about citrus, and Noldor versus Vanyar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bunniverse (Private Reserve). One of my extremely self-indulgent pieces not initially intended to be made public. I'm housecleaning, so expect additional fic dump in the future of random Bunniverse things.

“Do you think we can find grapefruit at one of the markets?”

Erestor was just entering the bedroom as the question was asked. Fingon was in bed already, on his stomach, head propped up with one hand. He was writing a list with the other, never one to waste a moment of time, so here he was, listing the provisions they needed in the few minutes he had to himself before Erestor and eventually Glorfindel joined him. “Maybe?”

“Have you ever seen them here?” asked Fingon. Erestor shook his head, and Fingon crossed them off the list. “Neither have I. I think it must be too cold for them to grow here, and they must go bad before they can be brought over. I would probably be out of luck searching for Valafruit, too.”

It took Erestor a moment to process. “Oh, pumelos.”

Fingon grunted. “If you want to call them that.”

“Sorry.” Erestor began to undress, his clothing ending up in a pile on the chair. “I am a Noldo, you know. I tend to use Noldorin words for things.”

“Crude Noldorin words,” opined Fingon.

Erestor chuckled. “Says the Noldo.”

“I am positively not entirely Noldorin,” he countered.

“You must be over half,” Erestor pointed out.

“The Vanyarin counts for more,” Fingon continued to argue. “The percentage is higher. It actually figures something like, triple, for every part Vanyarin to Noldorin. I read it in a book.”

Erestor, now naked, sat down on the side of the bed and drew up his legs. “You are more Noldorin than I am,” he pointed out. 

Fingon looked about to dispute this, but he took a moment to do the math in his head, and rolled over onto his back. “Fuck. I am not fine with this.”

“Due to my parentage or yours?” asked Erestor.

“How am I the Noldo? I am *never* the Noldo.”

“You do realize that none of us are purebred anything, so from that perspective, all three of us are…” Erestor trailed off, since none of the words used in whispers to describe those with blood from more than one tribe of Elves was particularly nice.

Glorfindel chose that moment to enter, and when he did, he was greeted by Fingon’s sorrow. “Fin, it is terrible. Not only are there no markets with grapefruit, which is cruel and unusual, as it currently stands, I am the most Noldo of all of us, and I am not fine with this.”

“Yes, I could hear you on my way up the stairs.” Glorfindel began the process of readying himself for bed, only he found nightclothes first, and carefully undressed before putting on the baggy trousers and tying off the string so that they only hung low at his waist and did not fall down completely. “Not really sure why it is a problem.”

“It just is,” huffed Fingon.

Erestor gathered up the list and the quill, and set them aside. Glorfindel placed the lid over the inkwell before he crawled into bed on Fingon’s other side. “Why is it not fine to be a Noldo?” asked Glorfindel.

Fingon stared up at the ceiling. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because reasons.” Fingon groaned and stretched his legs out, while Erestor pulled the blanket up to eventually cover all three of them. “I grew up so desperately wanting to be a Vanya.”

“You know, the only difference between Vanyar and Noldor is higher odds of blond hair,” joked Glorfindel.

“That was why I used gold threads.”

It took a moment for Glorfindel to connect things together. “You wanted to be perceived as purely Vanyar, so you used gold threads in your braids, because you wanted to look like a Vanya.”

“I always put that down on the sheets, when we signed in… when I competed at the gyms, long ago. I always signed my name in the column for Vanya.” Fingon continued to study the ceiling as he spoke. “I was called out on it once, rather publicly, and instead of letting me change it, I was disqualified. The coach was livid. I never ran so many laps in my life.” Fingon relaxed his frown a little. “I was in really good shape that season.”

“I have a feeling you were always in really good shape,” said Glorfindel wistfully.

“We could spend all night bemoaning our perceived inadequacies,” interrupted Erestor.

“Or?” Glorfindel prodded.

“We can… go to bed.”

Glorfindel waggled his brows.

“No, as in, really go to bed.” Erestor emphasized this by fluffing a pillow. “I am ridiculously tired.”

Fingon sighed as Erestor blew out all but one of the candles. His sigh turned to a yawn, and he turned to nuzzled against Glorfindel just as Erestor spooned against him. “I suppose, while I cannot be the least Noldo, I am at least not the least Vanya.”

“Between you and Glorfindel, you could make a full-blooded Vanya,” murmured Erestor against Fingon’s shoulder.

“Aw, he is so cute when he does sleepy math,” commented Glorfindel as he reached across the stroke Erestor’s cheek.

“I am about to fall asleep, but before i forget - grapefruit can be preserved. It can be canned or jellied.” Erestor snaked an arm around Fingon so that he was touching Glorfindel as well. “Maybe it could be done with your Valafruit, too.”

“That sounds amazing. And magical. And you already fell asleep,” realized Fingon as a light snore passed his ear.

“Honestly, I am not far behind. I will tell you a secret, though.”

“I like secrets,” whispered Fingon.

“I hated being the Vanya.” 

Fingon tried not to exhibit too much of a reaction so that he did not jostle and wake Erestor. “Why?”

“I like to blend in. Vanyar in Middle-earth had a hard time doing that. Even here, it is hard. Maybe if we were living near Taniquetil it would not be noticed, but here on the island? Everyone notices me,” said Glorfindel.

“Right, well, that could always just be because of that whole balrog slaying thing,” reasoned Fingon.

“Possibly. Then again, you fought two of them.” 

Fingon chuckled briefly before Glorfindel shushed him. “Sure, but no one cares how many you fight if you cannot kill any of those fucking bastards.”

“Shh… remember, not-a-Vanya over there is sort of related to those things.”

“Not-a-Vanya wishes to remind everyone that he had to kill one of those fucking bastards once,” muttered Erestor. “He also offers to write a really nice letter to Galadriel asking if she can procure a few jars of grapefruit to send on the next boat here, but only if the Vanyarin members of the household go to sleep.”

“I do like grapefruit,” whispered Fingon after a moment of silence.

“Never would have guessed,” said Glorfindel in a hushed voice before they all drifted into reverie.


End file.
